Brotkrümel
by Little-Firestar84
Summary: She has always been his- and he knows that she has always felt the same, in some kind of twisted way. He is the tie to her past and her present, who she used to be and who has been turned into. But after everything, she doesn't know who she is any longer, nor whom she is allowed to be. But maybe, just maybe, he can try to help her to reinvent her. Spoiler for s01e03.


"Brotkrümel" is the German word for crumbs; Crumbs are what Jane/Taylor has of her past life, but it's what, at the end of the story, I see her left with (she is not Taylor, she isn't Jane, she can't be neither of them.) crumbs, though, are also what I imagined her leaving behind as she tried to be someone else, in the hope that a certain someone would catch up with her.  
Spoiler for the third episode of the series.

(Also, the first scene is a sort of homage to S02 of Agents of SHIELD, when Hunter catches up with Coulson on some beach bar in some unknown tropical paradise.)

* * *

"I'll take one of whatever she is having."

As soon as she heard his voice, Taylor slowly turned on her seat, ready to face the man who had just approached her, her breath dying in her throat as she did her best to remember her training and focus on her surroundings.

What was he doing here?

 _Why_ was he there?

And mostly… was he over there or alone?

Gulping down a mouthful of saliva, still in silence, she checked out the bar on the seaside, knowing all too well that _he_ could see and knew perfectly what she was doing; for a few, brief, instants, it felt like they were the only human beings there, and the only sound she heard was that of the heavy glass of liquor being placed on the sticky wooden counter.

Taylor shook her head, and took a big breath, deciding that, if he wasn't there alone, there was nothing she could have done. Yes, she had training, yes, she was good, and yes, he would have never personally physically hurt her… but she wasn't armed, and if there were more than one assailant and they were good, there was nothing she could have done.

And then… then, he shook his head and laughed, awakening her from her reverie, and went to seat at her side.

"God, Taylor, you didn't change since we were ten… always on edge, always on the look-out…" He said as he drank in one gulp the content of his glass; the amber liquid burned down his throat, and it felt good. Almost as good as having Taylor's elbow skimming over his arm, making everything… tingle. He had almost forgotten how it used to feel to casually touch her, to have that proximity, to have her there, with him…

It felt good. It made him feel alive. Like he hadn't felt in a long time, just like when they had first met- back when she was still only Jane Doe- and then… then he had found _his Taylor_ again, and then, because of lies and manipulations and because of his bloody damn job... he had lost her again.

And he knew that she felt the same. Otherwise she would have never left some clues for him to decipher.

He shook her head. "No one is here. Especially not Mayfair." Jane shivered at the mere mention of the woman's name, her body filled with fear and something extremely close to hate: the betrayal could not be fresh, and yet, it felt just like yesterday. She had believed Mayfair maybe not a friend, but at least an ally, and yet, the FBI Assistant Director had tried to get her killed- more than once. All to keep her dirty secrets buried in the sand.

Taylor closed her eyes, feeling them burning with fresh tears. There was no way to know he hadn't been followed, and she would have preferred death to being imprisoned once again: now, she remembered being taken as a kid, kept in captivity, sold again and again and again, passing from one to another.

No more. As much as she cared-loved- Kurt, she wasn't going to go through that again; she had done nothing wrong, she just existed, and that was menace for many people. And there was no way she was going to live through that hellish nightmare just because… just for others.

"I'm alone. No one followed me here." He said, taking her delicate hand in his bigger one; he delicately skimmed over the roughened skin of her hand, studying it with critical eye in silence, enjoying the fresh "bareness" of her whole body, the utter lack of ink- there was not a single tattoo left now.

"I thought _you_ wanted me here. You left me clues, after all, didn't you?"

She sighed. "I don't know what I want, Kurt." And it was the truth. She really didn't know anything. Except that she cared about him. That was the only truth she was aware of- that, and the knowledge, from day one, that there was more than it met the eye between them, that they shared some ominous connection.

"Then… what about _I_ help you find out?" he laughed, and stole a kiss before swallowing her drink too.

And then, he took her hand and they run and run and run under the nightly sky, and they never said a word.

They had never needed words, after all. Not even when they were children, the best of best friends.

He didn't care if she wasn't called nor Taylor- his first crush- nor Jane- the first serious love of his adult life.

All that mattered was that they were together. That she was there. With him.

He would have never allowed her out of his sight again. Never, ever.


End file.
